


5 Times Phil Wasn't An Awesome Boyfriend and 1 Time He Was

by cruelest_month



Series: 5+1 Avenger Times [2]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Dysfunctional Family, Established Relationship, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, Love, M/M, Phil has tattoos, Post-Fix-It, Post-Movie, Romance, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-12
Updated: 2012-06-12
Packaged: 2017-11-07 14:32:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/432197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cruelest_month/pseuds/cruelest_month
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the most part, Phil is an awesome, accommodating, and thoughtful boyfriend. But sometimes he still manages to be irritating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Flu

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil looks after Clint when he's sick. Even when Clint doesn't want him to.

It occurred to Clint, as he longingly eyed the ledge above Bruce’s lab, that Phil had been right. Clint was probably coming down with a bad, bad something or another. 

His back was killing him for one thing, and the idea of climbing up even a few feet made his head throb. 

He inhaled more nasal spray and then dug around in the pocket of his sweatpants for a cough drop. But apparently he’d taken the last one of them a while ago. Damn.

“Are you all right?” Bruce asked, peering out from the doorway.

“Don’t suppose you want to Hulk out and give me a boost up?”

“Not particularly.”

“Don’t suppose you have any cough drops?”

“No, but maybe Agent Coulson does?”

“He might,” Clint said with a shrug. “The thing is… I’d rather not have to hunt him down and ask him. He’s busy. With stuff.”

“Are you sure?” Bruce asked. 

“Super busy. Like epically busy. All the time. But that’s just one of the many sacrifices I willingly make for my country and… And he’s right behind me, isn’t he?”

Bruce nodded.

“I’ve got this, Dr. Banner,” Phil said. 

The scientist decided to beat a hasty retreat.

Clint sighed and turned around. “Hey.”

“What part of ‘I’m running to the store and I expect you to be here when I get back’ didn’t you understand?”

“I understood. Just... Well, it wasn’t an order.”

“No. It was a very kind, very polite request.”

“I was hoping to hide until I got better.”

“So what? You’re just hiding in plain sight?”

Clint rubbed his forehead. “I don’t know. I can’t think clearly. And I don’t want you to take care of me. I’m not made of porcelain. Or a child.”

“I don’t think you’re either one of those things. But I think if I left a trail of cough drops from here to our bedroom, you’d follow them.”

Clint crossed his arms. “Maybe I would. Maybe I wouldn’t.”

“I also seem to remember being sick not too long ago, and you looking after me in spite of my complaining.”

“That was different.”

“Oh?”

“I didn’t try to smother you with love and affection.”

Phil just offered up a fond smile. “Yes, you did.”

“Yeah? Well, a good boyfriend would realize I’m a tough, capable man who doesn’t need things like that.”

“Then let me continue being a terrible boyfriend and offer you the following alternatives, tough guy. You either walk back with me or I carry you back over my shoulder.” 

Clint grimaced, weighing the pros and cons.

Phil held out a throat drop that was easily identifiable as Ricola. The flavor remained a mystery even when Clint relented and moved closer.

“I hate Honey Lemon.”

“This is Cherry Honey.”

“I like those.”

“You do.”

“And I am sick,” Clint admitted in a miserable tone. “Everything hurts.”

Phil gave Clint a hug. Then he gave Clint the throat drop. “It’ll be all right.”

-

 

Having to stay in bed was the worst, but Clint figured he’d just sleep the sickness off. And that he’d do so alone and in peace once Phil went off to a meeting or debriefing or heard the siren song of paperwork in dire need of Tony’s signature.

Naturally, he was more than a little disappointed when Phil had changed into something that indicated he was going to be sticking around for the long haul. Then tea and toast arrived followed by Phil finally admitted he had the day off. Well, as off as it could be considering the fact that they lived in the Avengers Tower.

“I thought about going to work,” Phil said, pulling back the covers and smiling a bit when Clint finally crawled into bed. “But then I would have asked someone else to keep an eye on you.”

“I am a grown-ass man,” Clint muttered.

“Prove it by drinking your tea.”

Clint plucked the steaming mug off of the nightstand where it had been keeping two pieces of dry toast company. He sniffed and scowled since he couldn’t figure out what kind it was. He didn’t have even a clue to go on, but knowing Phil it was probably Celestial Seasoning’s Sleepytime tea. 

“I know what you’re doing.”

“Obviously. I’m not exactly being subtle about it.”

Clint just grunted. He had some of the tea then set the mug back down.

“There,” he said, taking a bit out of the toast before sinking back into the copious amount of pillows he’d been given. “I did stuff, you did stuff. Now leave me alone to die.”

Phil laughed. “Not going to happen, Clint.”

Clint sighed when Phil got into bed next to him, lightly shoving him back a bit when he leaned in. “I’m sick and gross right now.”

Phil kissed his cheek before settling down on the other side of the bed. “I don’t mind.”

Clint drank more tea when Phil handed the mug to him and managed to finish off one piece of toast. Then Phil dug out his tablet and worked on a crossword puzzle.

Clint curled up a bit and tried to sleep, but he couldn’t get comfortable. He stole Phil’s pillows in a petty form of revenge only to end up tossing them out of bed. He sat up and leaned against the wall, but that solved nothing. Eventually he snuggled up to his boyfriend, giving up whatever shred of dignity he’d been clinging to in order to press his eyelids into Phil’s shoulder.

“That’s not going to help,” Phil pointed out gently before propping Clint up against the headboard. He got out of bed and disappeared for about twenty minutes returning with glass of water, a washcloth, and a bottle of Tylenol.

“Take this,” Phil said. He stood there patiently until Clint swallowed some pills and drank the glass of water. Then he turned off most of the lights in their room.

“Is that for me?” Clint asked, glancing at the washcloth which seemed to be steaming nearly as much as his tea had been.

“Close your eyes,” Phil suggested.

He did and sighed happily when the washcloth went over them. He felt so grateful that he didn’t say anything when all the pillows came back. Or when Phil wrapped several blankets around him.

The mattress sank a little bit when Phil got back in bed. Clint hesitated then curled back up against him.

“This won’t do wonders for your image,” Phil murmured in a teasing tone.

“Yeah. Sorry about before. ”

Phil wrapped an arm around him. “If you being unhappy because you’re sick ends up being the worst thing I have to deal with today, I’ll consider myself the luckiest SHIELD agent around.”

“Still…” 

“No more apologizes are needed. Honestly, I didn’t even need the first one.”

“No?”

“No. I know it’s nothing personal. We both just hate being sick.”

“Amen to that,” Clint muttered. 

“Since leaving you alone to die isn’t an option, would you like me to silently provide unconditional and unwavering support? Or do you want me to read to you?”

“Read to me,” Clint decided. 

When he woke up hours later, he had no clue what Phil had ended up picking out, but he was glad the other man had decided to stick around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More episodic nonsense as promised. And more is on its way.
> 
> Thank you to [fangirlSevera](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlSevera/pseuds/fangirlSevera) for the beta and the obsessing over the same thing I am at the same time! 
> 
> Although it probably wouldn't be necessary to read it, this does tie in quite a bit to [5 Times Clint Was An Awesome Boyfriend and 1 Time He Wasn't](http://archiveofourown.org/works/421011/chapters/702026).


	2. The Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil sends Clint to New Jersey.

Clint wasn’t sure why he was watching a warehouse in New Brunswick, New Jersey. But he’d been watching it for forty-eight hours already. During that time no one had entered it, and no one had left. In fact, no one had even given the damn place a casual glance.

“Day 3, 0600 hours. A whole lot of nothing is happening,” he muttered over the headset, flexing a bit before going back over to the window. “Oh wait. A pigeon landed. I repeat. A pigeon has landed on the roof. Progress has been made.”

There was no reply. There hadn’t been much of one lately.

“Taking a break, boss,” he declared, tossing the comm to one side and raiding the mini-fridge in the hotel room he was using. He still had one Subway sandwich left and a liter of Mountain Dew. He made short work of both then went back doing nothing.

He did nothing without the comm. He did nothing with the comm. And then for a change of pace, he sang some Billy Joel only to be greeted by static.

He switched to a private channel. “Phil, what am I doing here?”

More silence then: “You have a job to do.”

“I have nothing to do and no one to even talk to.”

“There’s always that pigeon.”

“Disney Princess is not one of my many hidden talents. Look, is there a point to this? I won’t be mad if there’s not. I just want to know.”

“The warehouse is—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Clint muttered, going back over to the window. He brought his bow and quiver with just for a change of pace. “Some kind of secret HYDRA ammunitions depot that we want to know more about, but I have a theory on that.”

“Oh?”

“I think it’s so top-secret that not even HYDRA knows about it.”

Phil chuckled.

“Can I please come in? Please? I’ll make it worth your while.”

“You’ve only been watching the place for two days, Clint. That’s way too early in the game to try to appeal to my baser instincts.”

“So?”

“So give it time and switch channels.”

“I’m an Avenger,” Clint pointed out.

“You’re a highly-trained specialist who knows how to follow orders. Do your job. Switch channels. Provide a detailed account of what you observe.”

“Hate you,” Clint muttered. He didn’t wait for Phil’s reply before doing as instructed.

He leaned his forehead against the window pane and sighed.

“Surveillance continues. Pigeon’s made a friend. Might be a girl. She’s a bit purple. Mostly black. He’s sort of a grey color. Probably a bit muddy or dusty. I will continue to monitor their movements.”

The next day was much like the first three had been. He spent it alone outside of the five minutes it took for some Junior Agent brought him food before scurrying away.

Clint slurped up some Chinese noodles then put the rest in the fridge before focusing back on warehouse. He tugged one of the armchairs in his suite over to the window then propped his feet up on the window sill.

“Purple pigeon and gray pigeon have made a blue friend. Repeat. Third pigeon has joined the pigeon party up on the roof. They seem to be trading secrets. I can’t make out what they’re saying from this distance, but I’m beginning to think they are HYDRA agents in disguise.” 

He yawned and stretched a bit. “Uh oh. Pigeons seem to be staring right at me. I think they’re onto me and my cover could be blown. Possibly compromised if nothing else. Might be time to abort the mission, sir.”

There was a sound of someone swearing under his breath. All Clint could make out was something that sounded like bird-brain. 

Then someone very familiar said: “Agent Barton, switch to a private channel.”

Clint immediately corrected his posture and did as ordered. “Uh. Yes, Director Fury?”

“What is going on with you, Agent Barton?”

“Sir?”

“I didn’t believe it when Hill told me. I’m not sure I completely believe it right now either, but I would love to know how you found the time to spend the past four days bird-watching in New Jersey.”

“Sir?”

“Don’t sir me over and over, Agent,” Fury said. “I expect this sort of shit from Stark. I don’t expect it from you.”

“Sir, with all due respect—”

“With all due respect, Hawkeye, I really don’t give a fuck about your damn pigeons. I definitely don’t need these asinine updates and if you weren’t an Avenger, I would suspend you for a month.”

“But, sir—” 

“If you need a mission so bad, speak to Coulson after you get your ass back where it belongs. Fury out.”

Clint gritted his teeth and packed up his gear. After checking out of the hotel, he checked the warehouse before swearing up a storm.

-

 

When Clint got back to the Avengers Tower, Tony, Steve, Natasha, and Thor were hanging out in the living room and playing Soul Caliber Number Something or Another on their Wii. 

Clint held up a hand when Thor abandoned the game in favor of greeting him with the sort of warmth most people reserved for someone they hadn’t seen in years. “No hugs.”

Thor frowned and lowered his arms. “Why am I denied a hug? For what reason?”

“I just spent most of my week in New Jersey. I’m not sure why and I reserve the right to be potentially mad at everyone.”

Thor’s frown increased. “I have done nothing to warrant your frustration. I am your trusted friend.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Oh for… Fine. Have a hug.”

Thor happily complied. “You were missed.”

Clint stood up on tip-toe so he could pat the Asgardian’s shoulder. “Thanks, Thor.”

Tony held up a hand. “When you’re done being cuddly, I have a question.”

“What is it, Tony?” 

“What the hell were you doing in New Jersey?”

“Watching a warehouse.”

“Creatures that shift into humble abodes when the moon is full,” Thor said in an admiring tone. “This planet never ceases to amaze and startle me.”

“Why were you doing that alone?” Steve asked, ignoring Thor. 

“I was told it was a secret ammunitions depot for HYDRA.”

Steve perked up. 

“Instead it was a storage facility for a teddy bear factory.”

Steve made a face. 

Clint was more than a little surprised that Natasha was the first one to start laughing at him, but he imagined it did sound pretty ridiculous. Tony, of course, was quick to join her. But Thor and Steve just seemed irritated on his behalf.

Thor rubbed his bearded chin and sighed. “I am sorry your time and hard work were wasted when you might have remained back here with us.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Clint set down his duffel bag and threw a bright yellow teddy bear at the Asgardian. “Here. Happy Thursday.”

“Why thank you.”

Steve was still shaking his head but he caught the blue teddy bear when Clint tossed it over to him. 

“What about us?” Natasha asked.

“You don’t deserve it but here.” He handed her a purple teddy bear since he knew better than to throw anything at her. Then he gave Tony a red one that was missing a nose.

“You shouldn’t have,” Tony muttered, tossing his gift to the floor. “Bruce is at some kind of summit but you got one for him, right?”

“I wouldn’t forget Bruce,” Clint said holding up another purple one before putting it back in his bag. 

Tony considered all of the stuffed animals then smirked. “No teddy bear for you?”

“Please don’t answer that,” Natasha insisted. “I just ate lunch.”

“What did you do for four days?” Steve asked, still focused on the matter at hand.

“Watched pigeons. Then Fury yelled at me and told me to go home.”

“How troubling,” Thor mused. “I appreciate the gift, of course… But who sent you on this pointless endeavor?”

“Ooo, ooo!” Tony said. “I’ll guess first. Coulson sent you.”

“Could have been Fury. Guy’s got a weird sense of humor,” Steve said. “And he lies.”

Natasha shrugged. “Maybe it was a training exercise.”

“In looking the fool?” Thor asked, sounding very offended.

“In patience.”

“The Son of Coul has a sense of humor that is much like my father’s,” Thor announced. “It is difficult to appreciate or understand.”

“What did you do to him?” Natasha asked, looking at Clint.

“Nothing.”

“You must have done something,” Tony pointed out. “I doubt Coulson sends people to New Jersey for doing nothing.”

Thor glared at both of them. “Speak not out of ignorance. Clint Barton has done nothing to deserve being forced to care for shape-shifting houses and dirty city birds.”

“Clint Barton’s going upstairs now,” Clint said.

-

His only plan after dealing with his team and/or family was collapsing into his bed and staving off dreams of pigeons. When he got up to the room, he noticed that said bed seemed to have moved about four feet to the left. And it had changed quite a bit. The headboard was new and cushioned. The mattress itself had gone from Queen to King in a matter of days. 

In fact, everything had changed to some degree. All of their furniture was new and sleeker than it had been before. There were two armchairs instead of one. They had three bookshelves instead of zero. Two were fairly small, but one of them took up a wall on its own. Phil’s books and Clint’s DVDs were already on it. The couch was longer but still black and leather. The TV was larger too.

The walls were a dark blue instead of white. And one of the walls had been knocked down to add an addition to bathroom which now had a Jacuzzi in it. Their closet was also much larger. Clint’s clothes were on their own side now where they couldn’t possibly contaminate Phil’s suits.

When Clint heard the door opening, he thought about ducking into the closet. Instead he crossed his arms and watched Phil stroll in.

“Surprised?” Phil asked.

“And very annoyed.”

“We’ve been talking about fixing this place up for ages,” Phil pointed out. “But something always comes up and you always want to hold off. I thought a mission would be the easiest way to get some actual remodeling done.” 

“So you figured you’d dump me in New Jersey for four days and then let Fury give me a bitchy heads-up when it was all done?”

Phil smiled. “Hill and Fury weren’t supposed to find out, but it’s all right. You had a lot of medical leave saved up that needed using. I filled out the forms this morning so it’s all taken care of.”

“So you figured you’d leave me in New Jersey and then let your superiors think I’m absolutely insane so you could spruce up the place.”

“They know you’re nothing I can’t handle.”

“That’s not the point.”

“No. The point is you only get so many paid days off per year, and I didn’t want this to interfere with the vacation we’re taking.”

“Dammit, Coulson.”

“It could have been worse. The contractor said getting everything done would take at least a week.” Phil shrugged. “But they’re usually wrong when it comes to estimates. You won’t believe how expensive everything was. Stark let me see the bill before he picked up the tab.”

“Let me see if I understand you correctly,” Clint said. “You were going to let me spend seven days watching pigeons?”

“And teddy bears.”

“What about a real mission? An actual assignment? Couldn’t you have come up with something?”

“And risk you getting hurt or worse right before the day I think is our actual anniversary? I don’t think so. I’m not a big fan of tempting fate.”

Clint considered this. Then he grinned. “That’s kind of sweet.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten to come home right away and see the improvements I was able to make without you.”

Clint’s eyes narrowed. “I still sort of hate you right now.”

Phil smiled. “It’ll pass. In the meantime, let’s test out the new bed.”


	3. The Addiction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil and his Captain America collectibles become a problem.

There were times when Phillip J. Coulson’s personal mantra seemed to be _Love me, love my nonsense_. 

And Phil owned a lot of nonsense. In fact, he’d converted half of Clint’s level of the tower into a shrine to nonsense. The other half remained a shooting gallery and a place for Clint to store his bows and extra arrows.

Of at least it had been. 

“You really don’t need all of that space,” Phil pointed out, noting the empty square foot here and there.

“Maybe not, but this is my floor. My apartment.”

“Our additional floor. We’re a couple. We share.”

“We’re doing a shitty job if this is your idea of sharing,” Clint observed in a flinty tone. “I’m not giving you even another cubic inch.”

“But—”

“But nothing. Scale back. Stop buying everything you find with Steve’s face on it.”

“I didn’t give you a hard time when you wanted to spend our money on yet another bow.”

“Phil, that’s not the same thing at all. I actually use my bows and none have cost even a fraction of the amount of money you spend on a single Cap Tchotchke.”

“I am very frugal.”

“You very frugally spent six hundred dollars on a toy plane.”

“And a paratrooper. In near mint condition.”

Clint crossed his arms. “Fine. You can have this whole floor with the following conditions. You live here and you never speak to me again. And I get your floor and all of the things you own that aren’t Captain America merchandise.”

“Those are incredibly unreasonable demands.”

Clint just glared at him.

“And… Obviously unacceptable because I want to be with you more than I want these things?”

Clint waited.

“You’re right. I’ll scale back.”

“Three purchases a month. And I have to approve them.”

Phil gave Clint a very wounded look.

Clint forced himself not to relent by very much. “Four a month. I still have to approve them.”

“If I don’t use all four purchases, do they carry over to the next month?”

Clint gave Phil a look.

“If I only get four a month—”

“Use them or lose them. For now.”

Phil was silent for a moment. “All right.”

“And believe me. I’ll notice if you buy something else and I will make you suffer.”

Phil rubbed the back of his neck. “And the consequences?”

“The first time, you have to sleep down here for a month. The second time, you sleep down here for two months. The third time, we break up for a while.”

“Break up?”

“Yeah, and I go off on epic quests with Thor to enjoy being single until I decide it’s worth my while to take you back.”

Phil frowned. “Why with Thor?” 

“He’s the only person I know who isn’t likely to collect anything but secret admirers and possibly seashells. You’d probably trade me in for a box of Captain America-ios.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’ll prove it,” Phil insisted.

-

The first month was really hard. Phil seemed depressed every time he showed Clint something. Even after Clint told him it was fine, Phil would never get around to ordering whatever it was. But Clint figured Phil had just been holding out for four perfect things and stressing out when he couldn’t find them. 

As the second and third month passed by, he was beginning to wonder if he’d gone about this the wrong way. While the time they spent together didn’t suffer and Phil got his work done at the same super-sonic speed as before, Clint felt guilty that Phil’s one hobby had ceased to be a source of happiness for the guy.

At the start of the fourth month, he woke up alone and started going down the stairs until he saw Tony and Phil sitting on a stairwell. He crept back up a bit and figured he’d just eavesdrop.

“I think I have a problem,” Phil said.

“I know you do,” Tony replied. “But honestly? I think you’re getting a little paranoid here, Coulson.”

“It’s a lot to ask someone to put up with. I never had to think about it before. I never figured I’d have to.”

“If he was going to leave you over the fact that you want Captain America stuff covering every surface of everything—”

“I don’t want that,” Phil insisted. 

“I am engaging in hyperbole here,” Tony said. “If he was going to leave you because of who you are, he’d have left you by now.”

Phil sighed and looked down the stairwell. “I just want to collect Captain America stuff. But I don’t know if I can do that if it’s all just one great big sign that indicates that I can’t put him first.”

“I doubt he spends this much time thinking about what sort of metaphor your demented collection amounts to.”

“No?”

“No. He doesn’t strike me as the brainy type. And don’t give me that look.”

“Then don’t insult him.”

Clint decided he’d probably heard enough and went back to their room. He really hadn’t thought much about what he’d said or how Phil would take it. He also wasn’t sure he wanted everything to be such a big damn deal. He just wanted to get to keep his half of his room.

-

Phil came up half an hour later. He didn’t turn on the lights, but he sat on the end of the bed as if he was trying to come to a decision. 

Clint couldn’t have felt more wide awake or concerned. But he feigned sleep then yawned when Phil nudged his shoulder. “What?”

Phil kissed his cheek as he turned over. “How long did you listen in for?”

“Long enough to hear you defend me.”

“You may not be a rocket scientist but you’re smart.”

“Maybe not,” Clint decided before sighing. “I don’t feel smart.” But he felt a little bit better when Phil got into bed and held him. 

“It’s all right.”

“No, it isn’t. I didn’t mean for you to feel like a problem. I know you and your nonsense are a package deal. And I do love you. And I wouldn’t leave you. Not even temporarily.”

“But?”

“But you can’t leave me with no space for anything that’s mine. It makes me very… I don’t know. Defensive, I guess. Anxious.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be putting you in a position like that.”

“I’m sorry too. I did the same thing.”

Phil shook his head and then they kissed for a bit.

“We can compromise,” Phil said eventually. “You can let me collect whatever I want and I’ll get a storage unit for whatever I end up with.”

“You’re sure?”

“More than,” Phil assured him. “I have an office where I keep what I actually want on display. The rest of what I collect is just things I need to have not things I need to see on a daily basis. And that floor is yours.”

“It’s ours but things that are yours or mine aren’t the same as the things we share. Not automatically. Besides, you like the range.”

“I do.”

“And I like you there.”

“Just not my things.” It wasn’t very easy to see Phil in the dark, but he seemed to be smiling. And he didn’t sound angry or even resigned. He just sounded fond.

“You’re not upset.”

“Not at all. I like the idea of keeping my Captain America collectibles somewhere that Stark has no access to whatsoever.”

“Thank you,” Clint said. 

“I’m just lucky you put up with me,” Phil said.

And then they gave up on talking altogether.


	4. Hobbies for Couples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil worries too much.

All of the Captain America stuff was living in its own little house, and once again Clint had free space to fill. He almost thought he’d just leave his old apartment absolutely barren outside of the bed and the bows on the wall. It was kind of nice to just lie on an empty floor and stare up at the ceiling. 

Or at Phil who was peering down at him with a mild trace of concern. 

Clint smiled up at him, gesturing magnanimously for his boyfriend to proceed. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Phil said.

“You do that a lot.”

“I do, and I’ve been thinking that we need more hobbies. As a couple.”

“I don’t role-play.”

“No. I mean actual, literal hobbies.”

“Such as?”

“Such as,” Phil began, pulling out a pamphlet. “Ballroom dancing, yachting, yoga, pilates, or chess.”

“Let me see,” Clint said.

Phil folded up the pamphlet like a paper airplane and sent it spiraling down to Clint.

“Reconnecting with Your Husband,” he read. “50 Fail-Proof Ways to Ensure Stability, Fidelity, and More?” 

“There’s a lot of good ideas.”

Clint sighed. “Phil, what the hell is this?”

“I’m worried that I’m not providing you with everything you need.”

“You’re doing fine,” Clint insisted, “but if you’re worried… How about if we just spend one day out of seven in bed?”

“That’s not a hobby, Clint.”

“It’s a way of connecting. If you know what I mean.”

Phil rolled his eyes. “Hobbies bring people together and solidify bonds.”

“We’re solid enough as it is.”

Phil smiled reassuringly. “Then let’s continue the trend and pursue some hobbies. I’ve highlighted the ones I think would appeal to us. They’re color-coded by level of interest and priority. The hierarchy is purple, blue, green, pink, and yellow. Purple being the highest and yellow being the lowest.”

Clint huffed before getting to his feet. 

“I went with purple because it’s your favorite color.”

“That’s nice, but you are such a robot sometimes.”

Phil waited for clarification.

“Never mind.” Clint opened up the brochure and examined it. “Why is this one purple?”

“Which one?”

“Read together. Pick a Romance novel and read it together. Reenact your favorite scenes to ignite the flames of your long-dead passion.”

“We read together a lot anyway. I figured we could try something different. Maybe get something racy with a corporate executive and his sexy secretary. I have a lot of ties we can use.”

“As kinky as that sounds… I think this is a terrible idea.”

Phil’s smile didn’t dim or waver. “Find another one then.”

“Plan a wedding. Sit down together and remember the big day. Back in days gone by when hope was high and life worth living… Isn’t that from a musical?”

“Could be.”

“Reliving the day or renewing your vows could be all you need to resurrect your relationship. Even planning something as simple as a budget… Oh, Phil. Seriously?”

“We could always just plan our budget for the next fiscal year.”

“Just shoot me now,” Clint muttered.

Phil kissed his temple. “Read it over and then come find me. We’ll work on whatever hobby you like best. I’ll pick one too.”

Clint read over the brochure and most of the options were just plain sad.

_Read a menu. Find menus for restaurants you could never afford to go to and dream about the day when you and your love can go to them. Download the menus and read them to each other. Come up with ingredients you could afford and get your love life cooking._

_Travel locally. You can’t afford to go anywhere but love is all you really need. Go to somewhere close by and pretend you’ve gone to Florence, Italy. Sail down the canals of Venice as you visit a nearby antique mall. Let your imagination do the talking and let your mind do the walking as you begin anew with the man of your dreams._

They all were along similar lines, and they all made Clint wish he could throw the damn thing in the garbage. But knowing Phil he had about four back-up copies and one of them had been laminated already.

In the end, very few of the ideas appealed to Clint. And only one of them seemed remotely do-able.

He went back up to their room and waited for Phil to get out of the shower.

“One thing. You know I love you, right?”

Phil dried his hair and then wrapped his towel around his waist. “Obviously. I know that booklet lends itself to a lot of melodrama, but underneath all that is just some good advice and common sense.”

Clint sighed. “Well, all right then. I found one.”

“Which one?”

Clint cleared his throat. “Love Games. Take an evening off with some board games and your one true love. Try to win at the game of Life for a change. Or go jogging in the morning. Maybe even play twister in the late afternoon. Whatever you do, never let the love-light leave his eyes because once it’s gone, it’s gone for good.”

Phil was smiling when Clint looked up. “I love how you turn bright red whenever you read any of those out loud.”

“I just feel like we’ve hit rock bottom,” Clint lamented. “This Dr. Samson guy is a douchebag.”

“Next time I’ll make my own list. It’ll be aggressively manly with bullet points just for you.”

“All right. So. We can go back to jogging again and playing some board games.”

“And reading romance novels. That’s the one I’m picking.”

“Great,” Clint muttered. “When do we start?”

“Tomorrow.” Phil tugged Clint over to him. “Right now, I’m going to work on preserving the love-light in your eyes.”

“Got a jar handy?”

Phil smirked. “Shut up, Barton.”

-

The sex was just as good as ever so Clint figured Phil hadn’t been replaced by a Skrull. He wasn’t sure where the pamphlet came from but he asked everyone about it at breakfast. 

When Clint showed it to Bruce, all was revealed.

“Leonard’s a friend. He’s also a psychiatrist. And a genius.”

Clint remained skeptical.

“Anyway, he asked me to look that brochure over and edit it. I had it on my desk when Agent Coulson came in and he confiscated it.”

“You let him?”

Bruce smiled sheepishly. “Honestly, I thought he was just going to recycle it somewhere and I was glad to lose that thing. Some of it made me miss Betty, and most of it made Thor loudly lament his solitary state. So I figured Coulson was just doing all of us a favor.”

“I do a lot of favors,” Phil said, putting a hand on Clint’s shoulder. “Come on. We’re jogging.”

And that was actually nice. They tended to jog together fairly frequently anyway so it was sort of cool to think that could become more of a routine. 

It didn’t occur to Clint until they were back home and he was gasping like a fish that Phil had purposefully worn him out so that he would have no choice but to listen to a romance novel. 

“Sneaky bastard,” he muttered.

He was more than a little amused though when the book wasn’t even about a CEO or a spy for that matter. Instead it was something called _Slave to the Sheik of the Soft, Shimmering Sands_.

The book was about a very bright Victorian lady with modern ideas who really wanted to be held down and tied up. On her way to visit her ailing father, she ended up a slave to a fiercely rugged prince of a mountain that was hidden somewhere in the middle of a desert. And every night they played backgammon together. Whoever lost was the other’s slave for the rest of the evening. And the Victorian lady wasn’t very good at anything but stating her opinions, so she lost basically all of the time. 

Again though, it resulted in a lot of good things like kissing and caressing. So it wasn’t too bad even if it had been remarkably underhanded since Phil had engaged in some considerably heavier petting when a sex scene showed up. 

After some sex scenes of their own, Clint was beginning to wonder why he’d been so reluctant to give the dumb ideas a try.

Phil seemed a bit restless. “We might need a third hobby. We do all these things anyway.”

“Board games, remember? You pick one.”

“Chess.”

“That doesn’t sound like a way to win at the game of Life there, Phil.”

“Strip Chess.”

Clint wasn’t much better at Chess than that bright Victorian lady had been at Backgammon. Still, he didn’t really mind that either. Phil certainly seemed pleased with what they did after the game even if he had spent most of it trying to teach Clint what the pieces actually did.

“I think we might still be doing this wrong,” Phil mused as they curled up in bed. “We did nothing all day.”

Clint yawned, feeling rather smug and satisfied. “Just like we usually do if there’s not a crisis. I think it was a perfect day. Every day should be like this one.”

“We need to take up yoga and tennis.”

“Whatever you say,” Clint agreed. “You might as well read some more right?”

“I thought I was a robot sometimes and that all my ideas were horrible.”

“You are both of those things, but sometimes you’re pretty much the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Phil considered this before tossing the paperback he’d been holding to the floor. “I don’t think we’ll need the book.”

“I don’t think we ever did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These suggestions are actually loosely based on actual articles I found online. 
> 
> And [Dr. Leonard Samson](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Doc_Samson) is an actual Marvel character and friend of Bruce's, but I doubt he would ever write anything like this.


	5. The Dinner Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil misses a dinner date, but he makes up for it with a Doom-bot and a power point presentation.

It was one thing to be forgotten for an hour. It was another thing to be forgotten entirely.

Yes, they ate dinner together all the time. Yes, Phil cancelled an awful lot when a meeting came up. But that was the thing. He usually cancelled days in advance and even then it was only a normal night where they were just going to eat dinner together because they had to eat something. Tonight had been more of an actual date and they’d been planning on going to an upscale Thai restaurant. 

Eventually Clint gave up, sent Phil a text, and then asked his team to dinner.

It seemed to work out well for everyone even if the wait-staff had been momentarily confused by the need to push two tables together. Steve apologized as much as they did. The only other problem was that none of the people working there could seem to understand what Thor was. But Thor was used to people being stunned by him since he was loud and large and always in danger of taking someone’s eyes out with “a stick of the chop.”

Clint didn’t mention that he’d actually been going on a date. In fact, he’d made a point of changing out of the suit he’d been wearing to avoid questions.

Most of the evening, he’d spent listening to Bruce talk about books before Tony took over that particular conversation. Then he reminisced about missions past with Natasha to the amused albeit wistful delight of Steve.

Phil wasn’t home when he got back so Clint waited up for him, growing more and more impatient. Until Phil wandered in looking just a bit battered. He had a cut over his nose and a black eye. And when he got ready for bed, Clint noticed a lot of ace bandages wrapped around his chest.

“What the hell, Phil?”

“I had trouble at the ATM,” he explained. “Some guy wanted my PIN number.”

“You got beat up by this guy?”

Phil shook his head. “No, I beat him up. Then I got a phone call and…”

“And?”

“And other things happened but any and all details are currently classified pending an investigation.”

Clint sighed heavily.

Phil smiled apologetically. “Did you have a nice dinner?”

“Yes and now I hate myself. Couldn’t you have just texted me back?”

“Texted you back what exactly?”

“Oh, I don’t know. What about anything at all?”

Phil shrugged. “I couldn’t think of anything to say.” 

“What about ‘Something’s come up.’ Or ‘Give me an hour.’ Or there’s always the old standby of ‘Going to the hospital. Please pick me up.’”

“By the time I thought of that, something happened to my smart phone and then something happened to my ribs.”

“Gee, I wonder what those things could be,” Clint muttered.

“Anyway, you went out with the team, which is good. You should go out with them more often. They need you.”

Clint rolled his eyes and got out of bed. He felt he deserved to sleep on the couch for not thinking about all the reasons Phil might ignore several phone calls and text messages, and if Phil wasn’t going to send him there, he could send himself to it.

“Where are you going?”

“It’s classified.”

The next morning, he brooded in the kitchen. When Phil came down, he made the agent something that passed for breakfast before going back to ignoring him again.

“I don’t know why you had to sleep on the couch. Seems stupid,” Phil pointed out after eating some of his eggs. “You have no reason to be mad at yourself, and I’m not mad at you.”

“What’s stupid is not telling me anything and letting me assume you’re a paperwork-a-holic all night long.”

“You had a good time. All that my texting you would have done is upset you. It would have served no real purpose.”

“I had a great time under false pretenses thanks to a certain someone who will have to remain nameless because I’m sure that’s classified too.”

Phil sighed. “Fine.” He set down his fork and pulled a manila folder out from his suit coat. “Here you go. A lot of it is still blacked out but you can read what’s there.”

“Thank you.” Clint began skimming the pages. It wasn’t too hard to figure out who had attacked the helicarrier. Very few villains had the initials V. V. D. And not many of them employed robots.

“From now on just text me when you plan on being a big damn hero. In an actual crisis, have someone text me BDH. I’ll understand.”

“Can I expect you to reciprocate in some way?”

“In many ways,” Clint promised.

“It’s a deal,” Phil decided. “But you can’t get this sort of preferential treatment all the time.”

“Watch me,” Clint said.

-

They managed to coordinate their schedules better the next week. Phil wasn’t sure he was as crazy about the food as Clint was, but he seemed to like Thai Iced Coffee well enough.

“No heroics tonight,” Clint suggested, digging into his Beef Pad See Ew.

“That goes for you too,” Phil pointed out.

“I think I can manage. I’m not as adventuresome as you. I don’t actively seek out danger at all times.”

“I’m the Son of Coul,” Phil said with a smirk. “Danger finds me.”

Clint just rolled his eyes. He let Phil get the check when it showed up.

Instead of fortune cookies, they got something more roll-shaped. Clint ate his up quickly. His fortune said he would have friends whenever he needed them. 

“What’s your fortune cookie say?”

“Someone is watching you— Duck.”

Clint wasn’t sure what Phil meant at first, but he was already under the table by the time the restaurant windows shattered. People began screaming and running. As they did, some heavily accented metallic voice began babbling about the might of Doom.

“Is that a real last name?” he asked as they lowered the table to use it as a temporary shield.

“Probably not. Check what he’s got. I’m guessing it’s some type of sonic cannon. Left hand.” 

Clint peered out before ducking down quickly. “Left hand, for sure. But it looks more like a Gatling gun that fires red lasers.”

“Could be,” Phil readily agreed. “We’ll need to disable it.”

Right on cue, the robot began shooting at basically every inanimate object available.

Clint sighed. “I really liked this place.”

“It wasn’t bad.”

“Are the other places we go run by terrorists or something?”

“No, but I did face off with a Doom-bot and survive. Probably makes him look kinda bad so I guess his friend is here to make sure this sort of thing doesn’t go to my head.”

“Way to keep things classified.”

Phil took out his gun and a clip. “That incident isn’t classified anymore. Where is it?”

“Nine o’clock.”

Phil stood up, took a few shots and ducked down. “Most things I do are going to be on a need to know basis from here on out.”

Clint rounded up eight chopsticks, five forks, and several bottles of soy sauce. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I told Fury I’m done bailing him out if I have to keep stupid useless secrets from you.”

“You’re the best,” Clint said.

“I do all right,” Phil cheerfully replied. “I’m going to hope those kneecaps are armor-plated and not vibranium. You’re going to try to jam his whatever-it-is.”

“On three or do you have another number in mind?” Clint was sort of used to getting overruled.

“Three’s fine.”

“You’re the best.”

-

Clint took out the robot’s optic sensors first then worked on dealing with the gun arm. Phil went after its metallic kneecaps and then decapitated it, which didn’t actually help as much as they’d hoped.

Neither one of them minded when Thor and Steve showed up to take out what was left of the Doom-bot. Both of them had heard about what was happening on the news. And both insisted that they knew Phil and Clint could look after themselves, but they’d wanted to save the restaurant.

Once everything was done, Steve let several waitresses fawn over him and provide him with free food. The place was in shambles, but they still had one good table left.

Thor sighed down at Phil’s empty clips and what was left of the chopsticks Clint had used. 

“I do so envy you both,” the Asgardian murmured. “I never have such times as these when I am out with Jane Foster. Perhaps the spark simply is not there.”

“That sort of thing takes a lot of time, but if she’s the one you want? You have to find a way to make it happen,” Phil said. “Whatever it takes.”

Thor nodded then went in to join “friend Steven for a hearty and well-deserved repast.” 

“So we’re in a functional relationship that others can envy,” Clint said once they were alone and walking back to the tower. “We even have a spark.”

“All of this is news to me,” Phil teased.

“You better pay more attention then. If the spark goes out, it’s gone for good and no amount of hobbies will bring it back.”

“You’re never going to let me forget about that pamphlet.”

“No. Never.”

“Well, I’m not worried about our spark.”

“No?”

“Not even slightly.” 

Clint laughed. “Is this where you say something about how the Son of Coul has no need for sparks for verily he has a detailed Excel Workbook dedicated to the cause?”

“This is where I tell you that for the Son of Coul, sparks are not a problem. I make sparks where ever I go.” 

Clint grinned. “So if I need another spark, you’ll get me another spark.”

“If we are in dire need of a spark, do you really think I’d do something as simple as that?” Phil asked, returning the smile with one of his own. 

“Point,” Clint said. “So if I need a spark, you’ll get me a baker’s dozen and color-code them based on their level of importance. Then make people pay a substantial fee to see our sparks and use the funds to finance our next vacation.”

“Exactly.”

“And people think you’re boring.”

Phil snatched up Clint’s hand and squeezed it. “Well, in all fairness, the more engaging aspects of my personality tend to be pretty classified too.”

“I prefer to think that the best parts of you are For My Eyes Only. Or something else Bond-related.”

“I love you more than anything, but I refuse to be your Quantum of Solace.”

“Does that mean you’re not opposed to being my Man with the Golden Gun? Or my Moonraker?”

“It means I’m pretty close to calling you Dr. No.”

Clint groaned. “Phil, we were having such a good time. Why would you say that?”

“Was it bad?”

“So fucking bad,” Clint said, trying not to laugh. “Sometimes I have no idea what it is that I see in you.”

“That’s all right.”

“Oh?”

“In the case of just such an emergency, I’ve prepared a very detailed power point presentation.”

Clint gave up and laughed. “No way.”

“Way. I’ll show you as soon as we get home.”

Clint was actually quite pleased when it ended up that Phil had actually gone to the trouble of making pie charts and bar graphs indicating all the reasons why they had to spend the rest of their lives together. And he made sure to indicate as much on the stupid survey he’d been given before the lecture began.


	6. The Birthday Gift

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint may have lousy birthdays, but at least Phil gives great birthday presents.

Clint tended to dread his birthdays. Not because he really cared about turning another year older. In fact, that was pretty much the only good thing that came out of it because most of the time he was just shocked he’d managed to live as long as he had.

But he’d gotten used to the fact that the days surrounding his birthday sucked. 

The previous year, he’d had to deal with Phil temporarily becoming a super villain thanks to being by something designed by Armin Zola. 

The current year had been no exception. The week of his birthday, he’d ended up captured and tortured by General Ross and a dome-headed weirdo named The Leader. 

The Hulk and the rest of his team had dealt with it so that was something. But Clint didn’t like being put through shitty situations any more than he liked coming home a completely exhausted mess.

He’d been spending the date of his birth in bed, ignoring the fact that the afternoon was slowly creeping by until Phil came in. 

“If you weren’t injured, I’d accuse you of being a lazy bum.”

Clint reluctantly sat up. “But since I am?”

“Since you are, I’m insisting that you get up so we can celebrate your birthday.”

“If I have to.”

“You do.” Phil handed him his dog tags and helped him get dressed.

“Oh man. I missed you guys most of all,” Clint said, putting them back around his neck.

Phil made a sound indicating both exasperation and fondness. “When you’re all done, I’d like to start the… well, end the afternoon by giving you your gift. Well, gifts.”

“It’s not your love, is it?” Clint asked. 

Phil laughed. “Don’t hold yourself back, Barton. Tell me how you really feel.”

Clint smiled then yawned. “Maybe it could wait if it’s not a box of love. I’m kind of exhausted.”

“You’ll perk up when you see your presents.”

“We’ll see.”

-

First they went down to Clint’s floor and although he did still have a lot of open space, he noticed another section of the area was full of rigging and other equipment that was probably more suited for a circus tent. But Tony had been very generous when building Clint’s floor so everything seemed to fit just fine. 

“I know you have a love-hate relationship with the circus. But when you talk about the early days or the tricks you learned…” Phil trailed off and shrugged. “I can tell it made you happy. And I just want you to be happy.”

“I did enjoy parts of it. Like being an acrobat,” Clint allowed, refusing to look at Phil until it seemed like they both had their emotions more in check. “And the trick shots. That’s more my speed then hitting things or lifting weights.”

“You also like heights.” 

“And you like my flexibility, which is fine. It’s one of my nicer features.”

Phil smiled. “I’ve always thought so.”

“Is that a lyra?”

“A lyra, a trapeze, and silks. With security lines, mats, nets, riggings, and whatever else you need. If you want them.”

“I want them. Well, not the security shit, but the rest I’ll take. When did you set this up?”

“You were on a mission when I did. I thought you could use it when you got back and that it would make your birthday a little less traumatic this year.”

“Familiar things being the most comfortable at times of great stress?”

Phil nodded. “And I thought maybe you shouldn’t give up on things that made you happy even if aspects of it weren’t as worthwhile as they ought to have been.”

Clint took a deep breath, letting Phil hold him. “Damn you. You couldn’t make a small and simple gesture for once?”

“That’s not all.”

“No?”

“No. Do you want to see it here or upstairs?”

“You can have an audience with me in my chambers,” Clint said, tugging Phil to his former bedroom. They didn’t use it much but it was clean and the mattress had certainly been built for two.

He sat down on the end of the bed and grinned. “You need some music?”

“This isn’t a striptease,” Phil said, as he took off his suit jacket and tie.

Clint watched Phil unbutton his shirt. “I think that depends on what happens when you’re done.”

“Close your eyes for a minute.”

“Seriously?”

Phil crossed his arms over the crew neck he had on and waited.

“Fine. Eyes closed, and I won’t peek.”

“All right. Open them.”

Having Phil shirtless was always a nice gift, but hardly worth so much fanfare. Clint nearly said so before actually using his eyes and noting the new tattoo on Phil’s chest.

“Is that a hawk? You got a hawk?”

“We talked about it once.” 

“Yeah and I thought you wanted to wait.”

“I did. Then I started wondering if I was waiting too long. No. I kept wondering what I was waiting for exactly. I mean, it’s you and no one else. That’s not going to change.”

“You got a fucking purple hawk.”

“It’s your favorite color.”

Clint closed his eyes again.

“No good?”

“Perfect. Too much good. You didn’t have to do all this for me.”

“I did, but it won’t do me any good if you refuse to look at it.”

“No more presents for awhile then.”

“Deal.”

Clint opened his eyes again. Phil had moved considerably closer to he traced the outline of the hawk with his finger. 

“I like that it’s tribal but not too tribal. Good size.”

“I didn’t want it to be too large but I wanted you to be able to tell it was a hawk.”

“And everyone else.”

“That too.”

Clint leaned in and Phil kissed him. Then they put the bed to good use.

“I guess if I’m keeping you,” Clint mused sometime later, “I ought to marry you.”

“Let’s save that for a day where one of us can be more eloquent. I want to get engaged and married in something resembling a proper fashion.”

“With feelings?”

“Tons of them. Each roaming wild and free.”

Clint covered his head with a pillow. “Ugh,” he muttered when Phil tugged it away.

“Don’t worry. I’ll propose to you. I’ve been working on a speech anyway.”

“We have to go through all these steps even when there’s no mystery involved? You already know what I’ll say.”

“Even so I want to get a chance to hold your hands and look at you with the utmost affection and sincerity. At which point I’ll overwhelm you with declarations of love and terms of endearment. Then pop the question on bended knee.”

Clint rolled his eyes before curling up against Phil and smiling. “It’s always so very complicated with you.”

“Always.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the fact that Clint was in the circus. A trapeze just seemed obvious and there's a lot of rigging that goes along with something like that. But since my sister is in a circus, I couldn't resist giving Clint a lyra (an aerial hoop) or silks.
> 
> The hawk tattoo is something they briefly talk about in [But I Am Cleaning Up So Well](http://archiveofourown.org/works/414818). Or rather something Clint suggests that Phil should get ASAP. 
> 
> I imagine Phil's tattoo looks like [this one here](http://www.tattoowoo.com/image.html?format=raw&id=5606&type=img). Only purple and obviously not cropped off at the top or bottom or sides.


End file.
